


walk alone

by emollience



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Catra-centric, Character Study, F/F, Friends to Enemies, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Memory Loss, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 10:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16617506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emollience/pseuds/emollience
Summary: Catra wakes to silence.





	walk alone

**Author's Note:**

> this is riddled with typos, i'm sleep deprived, but s1 fed me. also s/o to pvris' "all we know of heaven, all we need of hell" album for being the exact wlw music needed for this ship

Through the smoke, Adora shrinks and shrinks back into herself, hair dusty instead of golden, shoulders softer. She meets Catra’s gaze.

 _I can’t go back_ , Adora had said, and now a squadron lies destroyed against a broken terrain. Catra’s hands curl into fists. Her expression shutters. She walks away.

Adora doesn’t follow.

 

*

 

As a child Catra learned two things:

One: It’s easier to strike first. She scratches Olivia eye when the older woman squints at her nest of brown hair, her small limbs. Calls her _dumb-face_ and runs off to Adora, tears already pooling at the corners of her eyes. Arrives just late enough to every combat simulation to earn some ire before the others find something else to poke and prod at.

Shadow Weaver still grabs Catra’s jaw and hisses _worthless, insolent, useless,_ but at least she can draw a line to connect one and two. At least she deserves it.  

Two: _You look out for me, I look out for you._

 

*

 

Catra wakes to the silence. It’s entirely unfamiliar: After a lifetime of sharing barracks she’s learned to allow the constant background noise of snoring and sleep talking to lull her to sleep. She blinks bleary-eyed at the wall, curled in on herself tight and stiff on her side. She sits up and looks expectantly at the head of her bed.

Adora’s absence presses against the tender spot at the base of her skull, a still healing bruise.  

She breathes in slow. Breathes out. She falls back onto the hard mattress and hugs her knees to her chest, ignoring the burn from her still healing ribs.

She remembers: _I didn’t want you to come back_ , and Adora’s wide eyes, the sheen of unshed tears reflecting back at her.

Catra shuts her own.

She sleeps.

 

*

 

_“Where have you been?”_

_Catra paused near the foot of Adora’s bed. The lights were out, Kyle snoring loud across the room, with everyone else either asleep or pretending to be. Adora sat propped up with a hand flat against the mattress, ponytail mussed and falling low over her shoulder._

_“You...don’t remember?”_

_Adora blinked. “Remember what?”_

_In the dark, her eyes were almost colorless. They stared back at Catra, wide and bleary._

_There were absolute truths. Truths that breathed immutable, like the claws Catra retracted only when gripping Adora’s hand, or the glint of Shadow Weaver’s mask in a low lit room, magic striking red and hot through Catra’s limbs with only Adora’s pleas as a shield._

_Shadow Weaver had pressed a hand to Adora’s temple. She had collapsed to the ground. Catra had dragged her back to the barracks, vision blurred and wet, and left her to rest, only to return to a blank stare._

_This was a truth, now: Adora sat and waited, an eyebrow raised. Catra’s hand clenched and unclenched at her side._

_“I told you I was gonna sneak into the kitchen for some dinner,” she said, instead, curling up at Adora’s feet. She snorted. “Jeez, just like you to forget.”_

_“Ugh, and you didn’t bring me anything?” A sock clad foot nudged her shoulder. “Jerk.”_

_“Get some yourself.”_

 

*

 

She finds Adora in the ruins of a fallen village deep into the Kingdom of Snow. It’s not hard, considering the ethereal golden light illuminating her figure. Catra crouches low on the battered remains of what was once a house.

“You know,” she says, smiling, “maybe I’d stop finding you so easily if you stopped glowing so much.”

Adora’s mouth twists into a grimace, except it’s not her mouth, not _her_. Too tall, too muscular, with hair too long and flowing and a gold the same shade as the tiara resting sure at her crown.

Catra’s tail curls around her ankles.

“No surprise attack?”

“Nah.” She tilts her head to the side, considering. “Where’s the fun in that? You should know me better, Adora.”

She watches as Adora’s fingers tighten their grip around the sword’s hilt; predicts the familiar downward twitch at the corner of her mouth. The smoke surrounding the village’s remains long settled. Instead, snow drifts slow into Adora’s hair, small pinpricks of white against gold.

“God, you’ve gotten so boring. Is moping a princess prerequisite now? _‘Join the rebellion. Learn how to sulk and act holier-than-thou.’_ ”

“You know, you really aren’t that funny.”

She snorts. “Oh, and you are?”

“Catra.” Adora’s voice trembles. She stares straight ahead, and Catra’s hair stands on end, her claws out and sharp against the wooden roof. “You tried to kill me.”

Catra looks up at the gray sky. Snow kisses her cheeks. Somewhere miles away Princess Frosta’s runestone lies waiting with Scorpia and Entrapta, a mission accomplished, another victory to add to her belt. Except —

As children, Adora wrapped her arms around Catra, pressed their cheeks together and nuzzled, laughter bright until Catra returned the embrace, defeated but grinning, chest light. Now Adora meets her gaze, expression guarded. The sword at her side shines even in the setting light. Adora grips it, standing her ground.

“I’m not going to apologize.”

Adora sighs. Her grip tightens. “Didn’t think you would.”

 

*

 

The Fright Zone stretched before them, wisps of greens smoke rising high. Catra crouched on the railing, fingers and toes curled around the metal, and leaned forward. She squinted.

Adora rose on the balls of her feet, squinting just as hard. Catra glanced at her from the corner of her eye. Her lips twitched into a smile.

“What?” Adora turned to her, an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing.” Catra nudged her with an elbow and then pointed ahead. “What do you think we’ll see out there? When we’re finally put on active duty?”

“Dunno.” Adora folded her arms on the railing. “Sometimes it feels like we’ll never see anything but the Fright Zone.”

“ _That’d_ be depressing,” Catra said. “Imagine being stuck here for eternity with only Shadow Weaver. Or Kyle.”

Adora snorted. “I’d rather babysit Hordak’s imp.”

“Maybe. Probably whines less than Kyle.”

Their eyes met. It only took so long before Adora’s lips quivered and then she laughed, head thrown back, ponytail swinging to brush against the back of her neck. Catra snickered and leaned against her.

“At least we’d have each other.”

Their heads rested together. A slim hand came to rest on Catra’s knee. “Of course. We look out for each other.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://pefruma.tumblr.com)


End file.
